Sandwerder
Ponoči so me prebudili hrasti na dvorišču.
Tam zunaj, v krošnjah, sem spet slišal
Šumeti svoj notranji svet.
Bil je čudežen obrat perspektiv,
Kot če bi nenadoma priostril zarjavel objektiv.
Kar je dolgo ležalo nerazpoznavno v globini,
Je stopilo na površje. In postalo površje.
Zjutraj sem odprl vrata in zagazil
Do gležnjev globoko v temno odpadlo listje.
Odškrnil sem jih in stopil skozi dvoje vrat.
Skozi prva vrata v moj svet, ki je,
In skozi druga ista vrata v moj svet, ki ga ni.
Sandwerder
Last night the oaks in the yard awoke me.
Outside, in the treetops, I again heard
The rustling of my inner world.
It was a miraculous shift of perspectives,
As if I’d suddenly tightened a rusty lens.
What lay a long time indiscernible in the depths
Came to the surface. And became the surface.
In the morning I opened the door and sank
To my ankles in dark fallen leaves.
I parted them and stepped through two doors.
Through the first door into my world, which is,
And through the second same door into my world, which isn’t.
Obi poti
Ob poti sem
Našel puščico.
Vanjo sem dal
Vse svoje strahove.
Vanjo sem dal
Vse svoje skrbi.
Vanjo sem dal,
Kar me najbolj teži.
Miže sem jo
Izstrelil v neznano nebo.
Sem upal, da nikoli
Ne pade nazaj na zemljo.
Along the Path
Along the path
I found an arrow.
I put into it
All my fears.
I put into it
All my worries.
I put into it
What burdens me the most.
With my eyes closed
I shot it into the unknown sky.
I hoped
It would never fall back to earth.
Mrtvi muc
Ne koplji v kamen, modri deček.
Tvoje orodje je topo in prestaro za tebe.
Ne koplji luknje v zbito prst, zeleni deček.
Seme, ki ga pokoplješ, ne bo nikoli vzklilo.
Ne zatiskaj si oči, rdeči deček.
Tvoja mama počiva med trnjem
In tvoji bratje se nikoli več ne zbudijo.
Veliko lukenj bo potrebnih, beli deček.
Veliko vztrajnih dečkov kot si ti.
Ne božaj mrtvega muca, črni deček.
Pusti ga, da spi.
Dead kitten
Don’t dig into stone, boy in blue.
Your tools are blunt and too old for you.
Don’t dig a hole into hard dirt, boy in green.
The seed you’re burying will never sprout.
Don’t close your eyes, boy in red.
Your mother rests among thorns
And your brothers will never wake again.
Many holes are needed, boy in white.
Many persistent boys, like you.
Don’t pet the dead kitten, boy in black.
Let it sleep.
Translated by Brian Henry
Brian Henry is the author of eleven books of poetry and, most recently, the prose book Things Are Completely Simple: Poetry and Translation. He has translated Tomaž Šalamun’s Woods and Chalices, Aleš Debeljak’s Smugglers, and five books by Aleš Šteger. He co-edited Verse from 1995 to 2018. His work has received numerous honors, including two NEA fellowships, the Alice Fay di Castagnola Award, a Howard Foundation fellowship, a Slovenian Academy of Arts and Sciences grant, and the Best Translated Book Award.
Slovenian writer Aleš Šteger has published eight books of poetry, three novels, and two books of essays. A Chevalier des Artes et Lettres in France and a member of the Berlin Academy of Arts, he received the 1998 Veronika Prize for the best Slovenian poetry book, the 1999 Petrarch Prize for young European authors, the 2007 Rožanc Award for the best Slovenian book of essays, and the 2016 International Bienek Prize. His work has been translated into over 15 languages, including Chinese, German, Czech, Croatian, Hungarian, and Spanish. Five of his books have been published in English: The Book of Things, which won the 2011 Best Translated Book Award; Berlin; the novel Absolution; and the poetry books Above the Sky Beneath the Earth and The Book of Bodies.